HUNTING SONGS 



The C overside Phantojn 



ONE morning in November, 

 As the village clock struck ten. 

 Came trooping to the coverside 



A field of hunting men ; 

 'Twas neither Quorn nor Pytchley horn 



That summon'd our array ; 

 No ; we who met were a homely set, 

 In a province far away. 



II 



As there we stood, conversing. 



Much amazement seiz'd the Hunt, 

 When, spick and span, an unknown man 



Rode onwards to the front ; 

 All whisper'd, gazing wonderstruck, 



" Who can the stranger be ? " 

 Forsooth they were, that man and mare, 



A comely sight to see. 



in 

 The mare a faultless chestnut 



As was ever strapp'd by groom ; 

 Nor fault could in the man be found. 



Nor flaw in his costume ; 

 A silk cord loop'd the hunting hat. 



The gloves' consummate fit 

 No crease disturb'd, and burnish'd bright 



Shone stirrup, chain, and bit. 

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